


Reliance

by Akiko_Natsuko, TheHiddenScribe



Series: McHanzo [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Apologies, Cold, Cold Weather, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Illnesses, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Protectiveness, Rescue, Stranded, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHiddenScribe/pseuds/TheHiddenScribe
Summary: McCree was going to kill Hanzo...if they survived their current mission, something that wasn't looking too promising when they're left behind in a winter storm, the cold and an ill-timed illness weighing them down and nothing to rely on apart from one another.





	1. Chapter 1

     McCree was going to kill Hanzo. Later…much later. Preferably when they weren’t staggering through a rapidly worsening snowstorm towards what he hoped was the rendezvous point, although right now the world could be upside down and he wouldn’t know as visibility had been reduced to a couple of feet in all directions. Which wasn’t great when he knew that there was still goodness knows how many Talon agents on the base. However, staying put wasn’t an option, not when Tracer had passed on the news that they were retreating, and not when Hanzo was slumped against his side barely taking any of his weight anymore, head hanging low and his breathing low and strained. _‘I’m fine, my ass…’_ He thought with a scowl, remember the archer’s adamant claims that he was fine when the gunslinger had pointed out that he wasn’t looking good that morning, his concern increased by the fact that Hanzo had been oddly distracted when they were going over the mission…he really should have listened to his gut, because it was clear that he was pretty far from fine…but there would be a time to worry about that, and for now, he focused on lifting Hanzo who had slumped further during his momentary distraction.

“Come on sweetheart we’ve got to keep moving,” McCree offered softly, his irritation fading when Hanzo nodded wearily, struggling to lift his head as he did his best to keep his feet moving and McCree’s expression tightened with concern as he caught a glimpse of feverish brown eyes that seemed to be incapable of focusing on anything. _He’s getting worse,_ his stomach churned at that realisation. The archer had been pretty out of it when he had tracked him down to where he had all but collapsed against a wall in one of the outbuilding. But this was worse, and there was nothing he could do about it now apart from keep them moving forward, stabilising Hanzo when he wavered and pray that they didn’t run into any more trouble.

_“McCree? Hanzo?”_ Tracer’s voice crackled over the communicator, fractured and barely audible, although not enough for them to miss the concern in her voice, or what sounded like gunfire in the distance and McCree cursed under his breath. _“Where are you? We’re taking heavy fire here, if we don’t get this bird in the air soon it won’t be flying anywhere…”_

    _If we didn’t have bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all._ McCree wondered what on earth they had done to deserve this kind of luck. Okay, he had done plenty of bad things in the past, but surely the good the rest of them had done and that he done in more recent years was enough to offset that? A particularly loud crash through the communicator, followed by Tracer cursing loudly and colourfully drew him back to the present, just in time to catch Hanzo whose legs were threatening to give way beneath him and McCree sighed. There was no way they were getting out of here at this rate, and there was no way he was going to risk the whole team.

“Get out of there,” he barked when there was a break in the cursing coming over the communicator, idly wondering where she had picked up some of those words, glancing at Hanzo who didn’t even seem to be aware of the conversation. “We’re not going to make it in time, you’ll just have to come back once you’ve regrouped. We can hold out till then.” _I hope,_ he added silently as he glanced around, they would have to get away from the base and hope to god that there was somewhere they could shelter because this weather couldn’t be doing his partner any good.

_“But…”_

“J…McCree can make it,” Hanzo finally spoke up, startling McCree who’d honestly thought the archer was completely out of it by this point, not that the wavering voice gave him much confidence. “You… should wait for him…”

“Not happening,” McCree growled as he realised what the archer was suggesting, his grip tightening on Hanzo when the idiot weakly tried to free himself only to nearly end up falling in the process. Hanzo looked like he was about to pass out at any moment, and yet his eyes still blazed as he lifted his head to stare at McCree with something akin to desperation in his gaze.

“It makes more sense than risking losing two agents!” _It makes sense,_ a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, the part of him that was aware of how tentative Overwatch’s existence was right now, and how valuable each agent was. However, it was easily smothered by the fact that this was Hanzo, his Hanzo who could barely stand, let alone see straight - Hanzo who he had absolutely no intention of leaving behind, even if it meant dying out in this hellish ice hole.

“I don’t care,” he growled, ignoring the devastated look in brown eyes as he turned his attention back to Tracer who had fallen silent during their argument…at least he hoped that was what had happened because the sound of gunfire at her end seemed to have intensified. “Tracer go! Come back for us as soon as you can.”

_“All right,”_ she sounded nothing like her usual happy self, and he could almost imagine the worried frown on her face. _“Stay safe.”_ McCree wanted to laugh at that, but instead, he hummed in acknowledgement before thumbing off the channel, not wanting to listen to the sound of their team taking off without them even if he’d been the one to tell them to go. Not that he could miss the distant hum of the ship through the blizzard and he sighed, now it was time to try and find their own way out of here and a nice warm or at least slightly sheltered bolthole so that he could let Hanzo rest, speaking of whom…

“Why did you do that?” Hanzo demanded, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact that he was struggling to catch his breath. “You could have made it!”

“And you can’t stand on your own, let alone shoot straight,” McCree snapped, harsher than intended and he scowled…now was not the time for fighting, but he could see the mulish glint in his partner’s eyes and his own narrowed as he demanded sharply. “How were you planning on holding out until help came?” He swallowed thickly as something flickered in the dark eyes, and his mouth dropped open as he realised that the archer hadn’t been thinking along that line. He had been ready to let McCree get out of there safely, while he stayed and… “Hanzo…”

“I would have survived…somehow,” Hanzo muttered, apparently realising that he had upset the gunslinger, although it didn’t stop him from staring at him with pleading eyes. “Jesse…” At any other time, the use of his first name would have McCree melting as putty in his hands, but not right now, not with the thought of Hanzo thinking that it was acceptable for him to be left behind. He scowled and shook his head.

“Nope, I’m not listening to you.”

“Jesse…”

“Hanzo,” McCree retorted, daring the archer to continue fighting him on this. It was a challenge the other man would probably have accepted if he hadn’t doubled over a moment later, coughing harshly, his breath whistling worryingly and the Cowboy hastily shifted so that he had a supportive arm around his shoulders, riding out the fit as his annoyance faded. Once Hanzo was settled, still wheezing slightly and leaning against him once more he sighed, brushing fingers against the archer’s cheek and scowling at the heat that met his touch. _Worse. He’s getting worse, Tracer…hurry back…_ He carefully didn’t let those thoughts show, instead offering the archer what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Come on darling, let’s get out of here before they realise they’ve still got guests and I don’t fancy a gunfight right now.”  Hell, he had no idea if he even had enough bullets left to hold off many more agents, and while Hanzo’s quiver looked fairly full he couldn’t rely on the archer to protect them - so hiding it was.

    For half a minute, he thought Hanzo was going to resume their previous argument, but instead, the archer gave a defeated huff before nodding, taking a little more of his own weight as he let McCree urge him forwards once more.

**

     It had taken them far too long to find a way out of the base, and McCree had been forced to leave a couple of bodies behind after two Talon agents had got the drop on them just as they were about to slip through the wire. His gun had sounded deafening even with the blizzard still whipping around them, and he had been unsurprised when an alarm had started to ring out, lights springing up around the base and he cursed under his breath. That was one way to announce their presence…

“Jesse….” Hanzo sounded exhausted, and he looked even worse as he inched through the gap in the wire, clutching at it so tightly his knuckles turned white.  “We’ve g-got to keep moving….” It was as close as the archer was ever going to come to admitting that he couldn’t fight at the moment, but it still made McCree’s heart plummet. _This is bad._ Gritting his teeth, he holstered his gun, not sparing the Talon agents a second glance as he ducked through the wire as well, rescuing his hat as it threatened to get stuck, before hastily moving to support Hanzo who whispered an apology even as he leant into the gunslinger.

“Apologies later,” McCree ordered softly, knowing that he wouldn’t want to hear it then either, but unable to bear it right now, and Hanzo mumbled something that could have been an agreement or a complaint. Then they were stumbling away from the base, heading out into the wilderness in the hopes that they would find somewhere to hide…unable to ignore the siren behind them.

**

    McCree had no idea how long they had been walking or rather stumbling through the snow, vaguely aware that they were moving uphill, and noting with concern that the storm was lessening. It might be a pain to move through, and he didn’t want to think about what it was doing to Hanzo, but the blizzard had at least been providing them with much-needed cover and obscuring their tracks. He had just paused to glance back, vaguely able to make out the sirens still ringing in the distance, and oh how he hoped they were still searching the base rather than hunting them down, as there was no way they were outrunning anything today.

“Jesse…” Hanzo whispered, speaking for the first time since they’d left the base and making McCree jump, before he realised the archer was pointing to what appeared to be the entrance to a cave in the base of the sheer rock-face that he had been carefully keeping to his left to make sure they didn’t end up completely lost. Shaking his head in disbelief, because only Hanzo could be as sick as this and still alert enough to find the very thing they needed, he tightened his hold on the archer before guiding him in that direction.

    He wanted to curse when it came clearly into view, realising that it wasn’t a cave but a crevice that only extended a short distance into the rock, but… He glanced at Hanzo, feeling the way his breathing hitched and faltered, the last climb having done nothing for him and he sighed. It could hardly be called a shelter, but right now it was the only thing they had, and he didn’t think Hanzo was going to be able to go any further, at least not without a rest. Making a decision he led the archer towards it, slowing his pace when Hanzo stumbled and nearly fell, taking more of the archer’s weight as he caught him and trying not to let the rising panic overwhelm him.

“Here, sit down before you fall down,” McCree ordered as he guided the archer down to the ground, tucking him as far into the crevice as he could before crouching down in front of him, noting the hanging head and hitching breathing with concern. “Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

“Such names…at a time like this,” Hanzo muttered, slowly obeying and McCree swallowed back a growl at the sight of flushed cheeks and overly bright eyes, knowing even before he reached out that the other was going to be warm to the touch.

“Only for you,” he replied softly, scowling as a shiver wracked the archer. Hastily he shrugged off his serape and wrapped it gently around the archer.  “Here.”

“But…” Hanzo protested even as his fingers clutched at the material and drew it closer, and McCree quirked a smile at the action. He had lost count of the number of serapes he had lost to the older man, fairly sure the archer had to have a stack of them hidden somewhere back at the base.

“I’m not the ill one,” he pointed out softly, waiting for another protest, but Hanzo had clearly used up his energy, and his head was slowly sinking towards his chest once more, and McCree sighed before brushing his fingers through snow-dusted hair. “Just rest, for now. I’ll keep watch.” He got a sleepy hum in reply, but he wasn’t entirely sure that his words had even fully registered and he scowled, because this situation was about as bad as it could get. _At least you’re still alive,_ a small voice whispered at the back of his mind as he moved to stand in the entrance of their little crevice, hands curling into fists at his side as he added grimly.

_For now, …_

****

    McCree cursed under his breath as he spotted lights moving along the path that led worryingly close to the small crevice they were currently using for shelter. He’d been hoping that they’d have at least a little longer before this, Hanzo desperately needed rest, and he wasn’t even sure if the archer would be able to handle another move. Another concern was the distress beacon, without a communicator there was no way to let their teammates know that the movement was just them relocating, and there was a chance they would hold off a rescue if they thought the movement was because they’d been captured. And they needed help, and soon, he thought tersely as he glanced back over his shoulder, barely able to make out the crevice. _Hanzo needs help…_

    A noise from below drew his attention back to the lights which had drawn closer while he was distracted, and he growled, hand dropping automatically down to his gun. He didn’t have a clear shot though, not at this distance and there was no way he was leaving Hanzo, besides even if he had the shot, the noise would carry up here and he wasn’t keen to point a shining, neon arrow in their direction - it was time for a more subtle approach. Worrying at his bottom lip, he watched the lights for a moment longer before cautiously shifting backwards, waiting until he was definitely out of sight before hurrying back to their shelter. His breath caught as he drew close enough to see the huddled figure just inside the crevice, eyes narrowing as he realised that Hanzo hadn’t moved once while he was gone and was making no effort to keep watch. Instead, he was resting against the wall, wrapped up tightly in Jesse’s serape and yet the Gunslinger could see that the other man was still shivering and for a moment McCree faltered, preparing to abandon his plan there and then…because Hanzo…Sternly he shook his head, the archer needed to rest, but if he didn’t take care of their hunters, then they were both going to be in trouble.

    Hating himself and hating the situation, he forced himself to move forward, crouching down in front of Hanzo and reaching out to gently shake him. Despite the bitter conditions and the fact that Hanzo was shivering, his skin was like a furnace, and there was no way that McCree could miss the fact that he was warmer than before.

He was getting worse.

“Hanzo?” He called softly, hating himself for this, but forcing himself to shake his partner again and this time he was rewarded with a soft groan and a glimpse of Hanzo’s eyes, although the hazy stare did little to ease his guilt. “Hey, darling. I need that bow of yours…” He hated the words, hated the faint groan of agreement that greeted them as Hanzo weakly pushed himself away from the wall, the serape pooling in his lap as he glanced around blearily. It didn’t escape his notice that the hand that reached out to grasp the bow was trembling lightly, faltering before lifting the weapon up, and he hated the knowledge that Hanzo was pushing himself so far, that he was going to do it, just because he had asked. He hated the worrying warmth permeating the older man’s skin and the fact that Hanzo made no effort to shake him off as he helped him back to his feet. _I’m sorry…_

“Help me…” The quiet plea, the admission that he needed help nearly shattered the gunslinger and he hated himself as he obeyed, helping Hanzo out of their shelter and guiding him to the spot he had been using as a vantage point, noting with concern that the lights were closer. Glancing down at his partner he could tell that he wasn’t doing well, any good that had come from the rest disappearing with the movement, and the stress of the moment and his stomach churned.

“If it’s too much I can handle it.” _I should have done that anyway…_

“Your gun is too loud,” Hanzo managed to sound his usual self for a moment, although the effect was ruined when he coughed weakly for a moment, the bow wavering before he straightened. “I’m not sure I can handle a proper fight right now, and you go shooting up the place, and we’ll have every agent in range on us.”

“I know…” _But look at you._ Just the fact that Hanzo had admitted that he couldn’t handle a proper fight right now was terrifying, the archer never admitted weakness and McCree’s arms itched to reach out and pull him back. “But…”

“I can do it.”

    McCree watched with worried eyes, noting the tremble in Hanzo’s fingers as he lifted the bow, the way the archer faltered for a moment, staring at them as though they were betraying him and clearly willing to be still. After a couple of minutes, the trembling eased a little, and Hanzo reached for his quiver, placing one arrow in the snow at his feet before drawing a second and notching it, taking a deep breath as he sighted down the side of the hill, able to see far more than McCree could. The archer was taking deep, slow breaths, clearly fighting to stop his chest from hitching and shaking as he fought to hold the bow steady…and McCree waited, watching with growing concern as the lights drew closer, voices reaching them now and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer till he could see them clearly. _Hanzo, you need to drop them now…_

    He looked back at his partner, heart beating faster and adrenaline rising as his fingers dropped to his gun. _Hanzo…_

    It was clear that the archer was struggling, his attempts to regulate his breathing had failed, his breath unsteady once more and his entire body was trembling, wavering as though about to collapse at any moment. He could tell from the furrowed brow, the growing panic in the dark eyes that he was trying to stop it and failing. It wasn’t working, and McCree bit his lip, taking a half step forward, he could take care of it…

   He wasn’t given a chance to do something as he heard the familiar sound of the arrow being loosed, and McCree’s gaze immediately darted to the where the lights were, watching with wide eyes as one of the lights wobbled for a moment and then fell, a shout of alarm rising through the air.

“Hanzo!” He hissed urgently, knowing that they had to take the other out now. Otherwise, the Talon agents were going to be onto them. Hanzo was already notching the second arrow, fingers clumsy and his entire body heaving as he fought to steady himself. _Damn it..._

“Silence…” It was a whispered plea, for now, distractions, for McCree to just believe in him and the gunslinger nodded, waiting with baited breath and trying not to focus on the sound of the archer’s breathing. Something unpleasant curled in his stomach as Hanzo held his breath, but then the second arrow flew free, and McCree followed its course, watching as the second light wavered and fell too, praying that the snow would cover them.

   He waited as long as he dared, waiting for some sign that their deaths had been noticed, but for now, the hillside was silent apart from Hanzo’s laboured breathing, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Relief that died as he turned back to Hanzo, just in time to see the bow slipping free of his partner’s hands, the older man slowly tilting to his side and only a quick lunge on McCree’s part stopped the archer ending up slumped in the snow. Somehow, he managed to snatch the bow in the other hand, slinging it over his shoulder in a way that would normally have bought one hell of a lecture down on his head, but he doubted that Hanzo had even noticed today.

“Hanzo, you did it,” he murmured, making no effort to hide his awe as he pressed a chaste kiss into sweat-dampened hair, tugging Hanzo into his side and taking as much of his weight as the archer would let him. More than he had expected and the fact that he hadn’t received even an acknowledgement had him peering at the archer in concern. “Sweetheart?”

“Got them…?”

“Yeah, you got them,” McCree reassured him, brow knitting with concern and with more than a little trepidation he brushed his fingers against Hanzo’s forehead, unsurprised to find the fever was higher than before. Possibly higher than it had ever been, and he growled under his breath. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you back inside.” _If that even counts as inside,_ he thought bitterly, relieved when Hanzo didn’t protest, instead letting him turn him and guide him back to their shelter, not missing the fact that his feet were practically dragging by the end of it.

    Back in their crevice he gently lowered Hanzo back to the ground, the archer slumping against the wall, pale aside from the flush darkening his cheeks, breathing strained - a sound that terrified the gunslinger. Hanzo’s eyes were shut now, and he sat there limp, panting heavily, and McCree’s fingers shook slightly as he gently tucked the serape back around him, lingering for a moment just to watch him. _This is bad,_ it was a laughably poor description, about as effective as calling the current war troublesome, and he closed his eyes, now was not the time to fall apart. Once he felt a little calmer, he reached for his communicator and thumbed it on again, already knowing there wasn’t going to be an answer when it immediately crackled at him, but still, he had to try.

“Tracer? Can you hear me? Anyone?”

_Please answer, Hanzo can’t last out here much longer…_

*****

    Night had fallen, thankfully with no further signs of Talon coming after them, although he had a feeling that was because the storm had picked up again. They were probably waiting in the belief that the storm would do their work for them, and he couldn’t help but fear they were right. There were no stars or moon to give them light, but the snow itself gave an eerie not quite light to the world, the constant movement playing tricks on his eyes and he found himself constantly reaching for Peacekeeper only to realise that there was nothing there. He felt tense - on edge and driven into a corner, and he would have given anything to have someone to speak to, but Hanzo was resting against his side, heavy and still. His breathing was shallow, hitching more often that it had before, and he was no longer sweating even though his skin burned whenever McCree checked it. The archer hadn’t spoken for hours now, and the gunslinger wasn’t even sure if he was asleep or if he was in a stupor, either way, it left him feeling alone, and panicky, not helped by the continued radio silence from their team.

     Sighing, and trying to ignore the shivers working their way through his body he let his head fall against Hanzo’s, fingers coming up to play with the archer’s hair. _Just hold on a little longer,_ he thought, not sure which of them he was trying to reassure, and there was a weariness to his movement as he turned his gaze back to the entrance.

_Please…._

 


	2. Chapter 2

     Hanzo woke, feeling as though his entire body was on fire. Every inch of his skin felt like flames were licking at it, and yet when he managed to coax his eyes open, the world that met his bleary eyes was coated with a thick layer of snow, and he blinked in confusion. He was hot. Although now that awareness was seeping in he could feel the cold pressing against him, although it didn’t seem to be able to quench the feeling of being on fire. His thoughts were muddled to the point where it was hard to tell up from down, but he was aware enough to know that something was wrong. However, he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of what was going on, and he stirred fretfully, he had learnt from painful experience that wasn’t a good thing. He was forced to still as everything seemed to move around him, his stomach doing an unpleasant flip at the sensation of having the world shifting around him and he squeezed his eyes shut in the hopes of getting it to stop. Nausea rose in the back of his throat, and he swallowed thickly, groaning before forcing his eyes to creep open once more - this time registering the soft sound of snoring close to his ear and sluggishly turning his head towards it, feeling a familiar rush of fondness at the sight of the sleeping McCree.

“Jesse…” His voice came out as a little more than a croak, and he swallowed again, weakly trying to push himself up, only to slump against McCree once more. The movement immediately had McCree awake and lunging for his weapon, and Hanzo blinked, lacking the energy to reassure him that it was just him and he had to wait for the gunslinger to scan the area around them before slowly turning to look at him.

“Hanzo!” The sheer amount of relief in McCree’s voice when their gazes met, stopped the archer from complaining as the volume made his head throb and instead he blinked in acknowledgement, not daring to move again as it felt like his stomach was doing somersaults. “How are you feeling?” He must’ve lost focus for a minute because suddenly McCree had shifted to crouch next to him, gun once more safely in its holster and his hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t try and lie to me.”

“I…” Hanzo sighed, he wanted to lie if only to do something to reassure McCree, because he could see the worry in the eyes fixated on his face. The fear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead blinking sluggishly as he tried to summon up the energy to reply. “I don’t feel good.” That was an understatement, but it was as close to the truth as he was going to allow himself to come because he couldn’t see how it was going to help if he admitted just how terrible he felt. Instead, he stirred uneasily, gaze flickering towards the snowy world around them, brow furrowing as he lost focus again. He knew he was ill, there was no missing that, and he could vaguely recall being shepherded out of the snow, but everything after that was a blur. “What happened…?”

“Hanzo?” McCree felt his concern skyrocket at the question, and he was about to demand to know just what Hanzo did remember when he stopped himself, studying the feverish gaze that was slowly drifting back in his direction and sighing. To be honest, he was surprised that Hanzo had stirred enough to have a conversation with him, and so he settled for offering a half answer in the hopes of keeping him as calm as possible. “We’re just waiting for a pickup.” His gaze darted back to the communicator, willing it to life, but of course, it remained stubbornly silent, and he growled under his breath before shifting his attention back to Hanzo and reaching for the serape that had slipped off under the restless movements and gently tucking it back around his partner. “Keep this on, you need to stay warm.”

     Hanzo muttered something that could have been a protest, but from the way his fingers were clutching at the material McCree chose to take it as an agreement. Making sure that it wouldn’t slip off again he settled down beside Hanzo once more, pressing against him to try and share some body heat, although considering the shivers that were now working their way through his body he doubted that he was being that helpful. Hanzo didn’t seem to object though, abandoning his efforts to remain upright and slumping against McCree, letting his head come to rest against McCree’s shoulder with an exhausted sigh, his eyes threatening to drift shut again. Stubbornly he blinked them open, staring out at the snow for a moment before burrowing closer to McCree.

“I want to go home.”

“I know sweetheart,” McCree soothed him, reaching down to tangle their fingers together to give Hanzo, or rather to give them both something to hold onto, worry making his stomach churn at the small voice and soft confession. It was a weakness that Hanzo rarely if ever let anyone, even McCree and the fact that he had let it slip so easily was just another reason for McCree to worry, and it took him a couple of attempts to convince his voice to work again. “Just rest, I’ll wake you as soon as I hear from the others.” He wasn’t sure that letting Hanzo sleep was the best idea, but it was the only thing he could offer right now that might help, and he hated it, swallowing thickly before continuing, using the same soft tone he used late at night when Hanzo was disturbed by nightmares. “Once we get home and you’re all better, I think we should take some time off. Maybe take a proper vacation, somewhere warm, or you could take me to see those cherry blossoms of yours.”

“I’d like that,” Hanzo mumbled, startling McCree who’d thought he’d gone to sleep again, he coughed harshly, shaking his head to stave off help and it was a couple of minutes before he settled enough to add softly. “It’d be nice to have some time to ourselves, without…” He trailed off, breath deepening as more of his weight fell against McCree’s shoulder, and McCree sighed as he peeked down at his face and saw that his eyes were shut once more, mouth slightly parted and breathing still unsteady. Hesitantly he reached up and brushed his fingers through the dark hair, before moving down and tucking the serape in even further, not that it was really going to do much against this weather.

“Yeah,” he whispered as he let his head fall back against the rock, staring out at the snow and trying to imagine that they were somewhere nice and warm and that Hanzo was just napping and not ill. It didn’t work, and he glared at the snow for a moment before letting his head fall against Hanzo’s. “It will be nice.”

_I promise._

**

    He must’ve dozed off again, something that he cursed himself for as he pushed himself up and glanced around to check for threats, wondering what had dragged him out of sleep. The snow was still falling, building up around them and he swallowed at the sight, wondering if they would even be able to get out of here when help came. It had been hard enough moving through the snow earlier, and Hanzo…his gaze darted to the archer, a soft huff of relief escaping when he realised that Hanzo was still resting, although his expression darkened as he realised that his partner looked even worse than before. He was calm at the moment, resting peacefully, but McCree wondered if maybe it had been him that had woken him, right until a loud crackle from his pocket had him jumping, fingers twitching towards his gun before he realised that it was the communicator.

    Fumbling in his haste, he yanked it out, just in time to hear Tracer’s voice coming through. The sound was garbled, static making it hard to make out her words but after starting to fear the worst, it was the most beautiful thing he had heard in a while.

_“MC…EE? HA…O? Can you hear me?”_

“Tracer!” He glanced at Hanzo, relieved to see that he hadn’t disturbed him, clutching the communicator tighter when there was no response to his frantic shout. “Tracer, it’s McCree.” _Please answer…_

 _“Thank god,”_ Tracer’s voice dipped for a moment, and McCree had a feeling that she as passing reassurances to the others, jumping slightly when her voice returned to its previous volume. _“We’ve been trying to reach you for hours, but the storm…”_

“Yeah,” McCree grimaced as he scowled at the snow, while inside he was filled with relief. He had been increasingly worried that the communicator had been damaged during their escape, or that the cold had got to it, and he hadn’t known what they were going to do if they were stuck out here on their own.

_“How are you holding up?”_

“We’ve been better,” McCree admitted, unable to muster his usual devil may care attitude if he had been the only one in danger it would have been fine. But he could hear Hanzo’s ragged breathing and feel the feverish heat still plaguing him, and it was hard to be positive with worry churning in the pit of his stomach. “Are you on your way back?” _Please say yes._ The brief silence that followed was enough to tell him that something was wrong, and he was about to demand answers when Tracer continued, sounding more downtrodden than he’d heard her in a long time.

 _“Sorry Love, the storm’s still blowing strong…”_ McCree tried to hold back his growl, he really did. He knew that it wasn’t her fault, but he still caught the waver in her voice when she continued. _“We tried to take off again half an hour ago when we couldn’t through, and we couldn’t even get into the air.”_

McCree’s hands curled into fists. If they couldn’t even get in the air…he swallowed thickly, glancing at Hanzo who slept on unaware, forehead crinkled as he shifted slightly in his sleep. They weren’t getting out here soon, and his stomach plummeted at that realisation.

_“McCree?”_

“Hanzo’s not doing well.” McCree knew that he was doing that well either, the cold had crept in, and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to hold out, but he wasn’t about to say that, not when Tracer sounded worried enough as it was. And not when Hanzo was shivering beside him, breathing heavy and congested, cheeks pale apart from the flush of fever. _He’s not doing well,_ that was an understatement, and it terrified him to think just how big an understatement it might turn out to be and hurried on in the hopes of distracting himself.  “There’s no real shelter out here, and…”  

 _“We’re coming as soon as can,”_ Tracer promised him, cutting him off with more than a hint of desperation. _“Just hold on a little longer.”_

“Not a lot else we can do,” McCree muttered, knowing that it wasn’t her fault. Hell, he could hear the strain in her voice, the worry, something that did nothing to settle his nerves as it took a lot to get Tracer down. But he didn’t take it back, couldn’t take it back with his stomach tying itself in knots at the thought of having to tell Hanzo that help wasn’t coming just yet and his voice was even terser as he added. “Just hurry.” He waited for a response, flinching when the communicator crackled loudly in his ear, expression falling as he tapped it sharply.  “Tracer? Tracer!” There was another loud crackle and something that could have been a voice before it cut out completely, leaving him in silence, and his fingers curled around the device as he glanced across at Hanzo.  “Damn it.”

     He didn’t want to disturb Hanzo, rest being the only thing that could help now, but he had promised to tell if anything happened. He’d just been hoping that it was going to be good news when he’d originally made that promise, but still, he pressed himself against his partner’s side, reaching out to grasp one of his hands and squeezing it gently.

“Hanzo! Hanzo!” He kept his voice as low and soothing as possible, knowing that Hanzo didn’t react well to being woken abruptly. Still, it was a fight to keep it at that level when Hanzo proved difficult to rouse, fear creeping in, and even the sight of dark eyes finally creeping open did little to settle him, although he still managed to paste something approaching a smile onto his face. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

“…esse…?”

“Who else would it be?” It was a weak joke, and it fell flat when Hanzo blinked at him in confusion, not comprehending, and he sighed, squeezing cool fingers to keep Hanzo’s attention on him. He was more reluctant than ever to share the bad news, not even sure if Hanzo would be able to process it, but still, the words tiptoed out. “I’ve just spoken to Tracer.” It took a moment, and he could practically see the cogs working as Hanzo blinked, finally turning to look at him with a spark of comprehension in his expression and more than a hint of hope.

“Coming back?”

“Y…” He couldn’t bring himself to lie to his partner, even though he desperately wanted to reassure Hanzo…to give him something else to hold onto, but under the hazy gaze, he found himself sighing and shaking his head.  “Not yet.” It clearly took a moment for his words to register, Hanzo’s expression darkening before he lowered his gaze and McCree hurried to try and reassure him.  “The storms causing them some problems, but they’re working on it, and they’re coming back as soon as they can.” _At least that much is true,_ it was a weak reassurance even in the safety of his own mind, and he desperately hoped that his doubts weren’t showing in his expression.

   The silence stretched on, and he was just beginning to think that Hanzo had dozed off again when the archer spoke, voice soft and nearly lost to the sound of the wind beyond their shelter.

“I’m sorry.” It was the clearest he had been for a long time, and McCree hated it, his expression darkening as the apology registered, and he knew exactly what Hanzo was apologising for even as he forced himself to ask.

“Sorry? For what?”

“You should have gone with them,” Hanzo whispered, trailing off as he was consumed by a coughing fit, doubling over and McCree’s irritation that had flickered to life with those words died at once as he moved to support the archer. He could feel each cough as it rocked Hanzo, could feel the way Hanzo shuddered as he struggled to draw in breath, the sound worse than ever and McCree bit his lip, all he had right now was worthless platitudes and reassurances. Instead, he pressed as close as he could, supporting as much of Hanzo’s weight as the archer would let him, and hung on. Eventually, the fit subsided, leaving Hanzo exhausted and slumped against McCree, face paler than ever as he buried it against McCree’s shoulder. “Sorry…”

“Don’t start that again,” McCree grumbled, unable to muster any real heat as he felt the way Hanzo was trembling in his grip and noting the worsened wheeze after each breath. He wanted that to be the end of it, but even when he was falling apart at the seams, Hanzo was nothing if not stubborn, pulling back to peer up at him with desperation.

“But…”

    Growling under his breath, McCree reached up and rested a finger against his partner’s lip, pleased to see the chagrined expression that greeted the gesture because it meant that Hanzo was still with him, still hanging on. It didn’t soften his tone though. “Do you honestly I could ever leave you behind? Even if you hadn’t been ill, I would have stayed!” It came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it, wanting Hanzo to understand. Hanzo stared at him, comprehension fading again, although this time McCree had a feeling it wasn’t entirely due to the fever. It was the same expression that still greeted him at times when he told the archer how he felt at him, the disbelief, the doubt that someone could care that much for him and he sighed. Now was not the time to work on those issues, instead settling for sitting back and pulling Hanzo over until the archer was sat in his lap, slumped against his chest, pressing his lips to the top of Hanzo’s head. “You have nothing to apologise for, we’re just going to have to hang on a little longer, okay?”

    Silence greeted his words, but when he tilted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Hanzo’s face, he realised that the dark eyes were still open, although Hanzo’s gaze was unfocused. Swallowing thickly, he nudged Hanzo, earning a slow blink as his partner turned to look at him, still not focused and he sighed, brushing his fingers against a flushed cheek. “Hanzo? You’ve got to hang on for me, okay?” It took a moment but finally Hanzo nodded, slowly reaching up to brush his own fingers against McCree’s, the touch fleeting and frighteningly weak, but for now, it was enough, it had to be.

_Tracer, hurry…_

****

    Time had lost all meaning. He was vaguely aware of the storm continuing around them, more focused on the sound of Hanzo’s breathing which continued to worsen and the fact that Hanzo hadn’t spoken since then. He was sure that Hanzo was aware at times, stirring against him, fingers curling weakly against his clothes as though to make sure he was there. It was all they could do. Wait and hold onto one another and pray that the others came back soon.

     Soon, he realised he was becoming more urgent, aware that his thoughts were beginning to wonder. He was cold, too cold, and even sitting curled around Hanzo was doing little to keep either of them warm. A shiver worked its way through him, and he frowned, aware that he wasn’t shivering enough, and neither was Hanzo, but there was nothing he could do, and helplessness settled over him, a crushing weight on his shoulders as his eyes drifted shut. With a jerk, he forced them open again, knowing that they couldn’t both afford to fall asleep, terrified that if they did, they might not wake up again. But he could already feel his eyes threatening to go again, and he bit his lip, deliberately drawing blood in the hopes that the sting would help to keep him awake just a little longer.  

_Hurry…_

****

    He must have lost the battle at some point, stirring to the foreign sensation of warm skin against his. It hurt. It burnt. But it was a wonderful sensation, one that he latched onto, a pained whimper slipping out despite his best efforts as he fought to get his eyes open. _Help? Was it help?_ Suddenly he was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find that his mind was playing tricks on him, but the warm hands were relentless as they patted his face, igniting flashes of pain in his frozen cheeks. However, it was only when he heard a familiar voice, higher than normal with what he numbly recognised as concern exploded in his ears.

“McCree!”

    He knew that voice. It took his sluggish mind longer than he liked to place it. _Tracer._ It was like throwing a switch, and he stirred, regretting it when his frozen body protested but refusing to stop as he finally managed to coax his eyes open. For a moment, all he saw was a blur, dominated by white, but there was a blue blur hovering in front of him, and he focused on that, using it to ground himself as he blinked heavily to clear his vision. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually, Tracer came into view, no sign of her usual grin to be found as she stared at him with wide, worried eyes, although a relieved smile quirked at her lips when their gazes met. “Welcome back, Love.” He blinked again, slow and heavy, it was hard to focus through the fog that seemed to have taken hold of his thoughts, exhaustion threatening to drag him under again. Why was she so relieved? She seemed to have noticed his confusion, crouching down, fingers lingering against his cheek and even though the warmth burnt him, he didn’t try to pull away. “McCree? Jesse? Are you with me?”

“…’happened?” It came out slurred and confused, and he frowned, something tickling at the edge of his thoughts. Then he caught the way her eyes flickered to the side, and he tensed, slowly tilting his head to follow her gaze and feeling his eyes widen. _Hanzo._  How could he have forgotten? Forgetting, or rather choosing to ignore his own condition he tried to push himself upright, but his body was heavy and slow to respond, and he knew that if Tracer hadn’t followed him, he would have found himself face down on the ground. Breathing heavily, he let her take his weight, gaze fixated on his partner as he fought to get his voice to work.

“Hanzo!” It came out as a broken croak, and he winced at the noise, but he continued undeterred. “They’re here…” He was forced to pause, swallowing thickly, head swimming. “We’re going…Hanzo?” It dawned on him that Hanzo hadn’t responded, that the dark eyes were shut, the pale face still and it seemed to him that even the dreadful flush of fever seemed to have faded. “HANZO!”

“McCree!” He wasn’t even aware that he’d resumed his efforts to get to Hanzo’s side until Tracer bodily forced him back down, scowling at him. “Sit down before you fall down.” He shook his head, sure that terror must be written across his face as he strained towards Hanzo once more, every movement hurt, his frozen limbs trying to wake up. It paled in comparison to the thought that maybe they’d been too later, that he’d fallen asleep and left Hanzo alone. “McCree?” The warm fingers were back against his cheek, the heat drawing his attention as Tracer fought to get his attention, brown eyes fierce when she met his gaze. “You’re not helping! Let Angela work on him.” He blinked at that, focusing on the scene in front of him, startled to realise that Angela was there crouched beside his partner, expression one of grim determination as she worked.

 “But…” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Angela, he did, fully aware that she was the only reason that he was still here and fighting, but this was Hanzo…he had to be there, he had to help, he had to… a helpless, breathless sob welled up as he found himself slumping again, his body unable to keep up with what his mind wanted.

“He’s going to be fine,” Tracer’s voice was low and soothing in his ear, her hands gentle as he leant him back against the wall, and he blinked up at her wearily as he gently tucked a survival blanket around him. The urge to push it away was strong, reluctant to accept help before he knew that Hanzo was okay, but Tracer was holding it in place as though she knew what he was planning. “Hanzo’s too stubborn let something like this stop him.” McCree felt his lips quirk at that. Hanzo, stubborn? He noted the concern, the fondness behind the words and made a note of it, not forgetting Hanzo’s continued reluctance to believe that people cared about him, his attention shifting back to Tracer as she settled down beside him and pressed close, lending him her warmth with an exaggerated shiver. “Jeez, you’re like an ice cube.”  

“Sorry, I would…” He had been planning on trying to make a joke, something to lighten the situation, but he couldn’t get the words out as his gaze returned to Hanzo. Angela had his partner wrapped up in a survival blanket as well, her staff glowing brightly, ethereal against the snow around them as she worked, and he swallowed thickly. He knew her - knew that she hated working outside like this, and the fact that she was doing it here, rather than back in the plane meant that Hanzo was bad. “I shouldn’t h-have fallen asleep.”

“Shh,” Tracer shushed him, shaking her head when he opened his mouth to argue. “This isn’t your fault.” A shadowed expression flickered across her face, and she ducked her head, voice falling to a whisper as she added. “I’m sorry we took so long to get back here.” _Too long…_ It hung in the air between them, and McCree hated that he couldn’t find the words to comfort her, unable to do anything but lean against her, feeling faint shivers beginning to work their way through him as he watched Angela working.

_Hanzo…_

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

    McCree was warm again, or at least his body was. It felt to him that the cold that had burrowed deep inside as they sat waiting for rescue was still there, leaving him shivering long after he’d been warmed up and discharged from Angela’s care. He was trembling now. Shaking. As he slipped through the infirmary and door and hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on the curtained off the bed in the far corner. The entire room was warmer than usual, Athena keeping the temperature high at Angela’s request, and yet the chill in his chest seemed to swell and grow as he forced himself to move forward, reluctance hanging from every step.

“Jesse,” Angela stepped out of her office, looking tired and clutching a mug of coffee as she offered him a smile, that he tried to return but failed, before tilting his head towards the hidden bed.

“Has there been any change?”

“No,” she replied, and McCree knew that his expression had fallen, disappointment cutting him like a knife, even though he had tried to convince himself to expect that news or worse. It clearly hadn’t worked, and his hands curled at his side. _We waited too late,_ the feeling that had been haunting him ever since they’d been rescued surged up once more, and he flinched as Angela reached out and lay a hand on his arm.   “He’s holding his own Jesse, a couple of days ago I couldn’t have even said that.”

“I know,” he murmured. And he did know, doubting he would ever be able to forget how she had crouched in front of him, grabbing his hands, as in the softest voice he had ever heard from her, warned him that Hanzo might not make it through the night. _Too close,_ his eyes flickered back to the curtains. “But…”

“Go sit with him,” Angela ordered, giving him a gentle push, and he nodded numbly as he obediently moved forward. It felt like miles to reach the curtains when in reality it was only a dozen or so steps before he was reaching out with a trembling hand to draw back the curtains.

    The heat here was more pronounced, but it still didn’t touch the cold encasing him as with a last glance back at Angela who gave him an encouraging nod, he slipped inside. There was no pert comment about how awful he looked, no hand reaching for him, no sign at all that Hanzo knew he was there as he let the curtain drift shut behind him and stepped closer. “Hanzo,” he whispered, the cold spreading as he studied his partner’s face.

   There were little signs of improvement, colour slipping back into the skin that had been so pale and lifeless when they were rescued, the flush of fever lingering, but dulled to a rosy pink now. Although, it was still evident in the parted lips that were obscured by the oxygen mask he was wearing, and the ragged rise and fall of his chest. But he was still, and unresponsive, only a tiny furrow showing that he had any awareness of the world or the discomfort that had to be wracking his body, and as much as McCree wanted to spare him that, the need to see him awake, to see the dark eyes open again was almost overwhelming.

“Hanzo, you’ve got to come back,” he said, the words permanently etched on his memory now. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d said them, since the first time when Lena had helped him to stagger across to Hanzo’s side when Angela had signalled that she had stabilised him. _Please,_ he added silently as he moved across to the seat next to Hanzo’s bed, sinking into it with a heavy sigh, before reaching out to take Hanzo’s hand, mindful of the wires, and the warming blankets wrapped around Hanzo. “It’s not the same without you,” he continued instead, cradling the archer’s hand between his hands, gentle because the skin beneath his touch was raw and new from Angela’s healing.

     Their rooms which sometimes felt too small when they were both there, even though Hanzo had barely anything to his name, and neither of them would change a single thing about the cramped quarters that really weren’t meant for two people, now felt empty and lonely. He’d hoped that being surrounded by Hanzo’s belongings and being able to bury his nose in their bed and chase the archer’s lingering scent would have allowed him to rest when he had been unceremoniously evicted from the infirmary to clean up and rest. Instead, it had made everything ten times worse, and whenever he’d closed his eyes, all he’d been able to see was Hanzo slumped against him, dark eyes shut, and pale face still or his partner laid out on the ground, slipping away with each breath as Angela fought to hold on to him.

    Instead, he’d spent the two hours that Angela had insisted on as a minimum roaming the base, trying to find somewhere quiet, where the memories would be a little more distant. It hadn’t worked, because the Watchpoint was their home, and over the months they had made memories that leaked into each and every corner of the base.

    There was the communications tower that at one point had been Hanzo’s hiding place before he had started to let people in, before the two of them had become something more, and which was now the place they would escape to share a drink and tales of the past. Or the training range, where what had started as less than friendly displays of sharpshooting, had become a friendly competition, and later a space where they had learned to move as one person. Then there was the dining room, where Hanzo would mutter snide comments about the amount of coffee McCree piled in his mug each morning, and where McCree would watch in awe as Hanzo would all but inhale anything sweet that was put in front of him. The common room, where Hanzo had inadvertently revealed their relationship, which while not secret, they had been keeping on the down low when he’d all but curled up in McCree’s lap after a nightmare of a mission. And the showers, where McCree had kissed him for the first time, winding up soaked to the skin, as he had lunged forward, still fully dressed when Hanzo’s expression had crumpled beneath his determined attempts to broach this ‘thing’ between them.

“I miss you,” he added, lifting his head to look at Hanzo. Marvelling at his own words, remembering a time when he wouldn’t have associated Hanzo with any of those things or missed the surly, uncommunicative archer that he wasn’t even sure they could trust. How things had changed, and for half a second, he almost wished that they hadn’t, because it would hurt less than sitting here with nothing but memories and the sound of Hanzo’s irregular breathing, and the accompaniment of mechanical beeping to reassure him that his partner was still there.

Still with him.

_Hanzo, please…_

**

    He must’ve dozed off at some point, because he found himself bolting upright in the chair with Hanzo’s name on his lips as panic engulfed him, only to find his partner just as he had left him, and Genji watching him from the other side of the bed.

“He’s still sleeping,” Genji murmured, answering the unspoken question as he met McCree’s gaze, lips quirked in a weak smile. He had been one of the first to see and encourage their relationship, although, at the time he had scarcely been able to believe it, as it had taken everything, he could think of just to get McCree to tolerate his brother when Hanzo had first joined them. They had come so far since then, his brother almost unrecognisable in the rare moments when he would let his mask slide and the barriers come down, that he almost couldn’t believe it was the same person. “You look like you could use a few more hours if you want me to watch him?”

“I already tried,” McCree shook his head at the offer, turning to stare at Hanzo’s features. He really did look like he was just sleeping if you ignored the oxygen mask, and the medical devices attached to him, and somehow that made the ache in his chest worse. The chill spreading further as he leaned forward, still holding onto Hanzo’s hand, as he reached out with the other, fingers curling against a still too-pale cheek. He was warm to the touch now, a far cry from how he had felt on the flight back to base when it had been like touching an iceberg, the archer so cold, that even McCree who had been almost as bad, could feel it. And he let out a soft, shuddering breath before glancing up at Genji. “All I can see when I close my eyes is how he looked back then…and everywhere I look all I can see is…”

“My brother?”  Genji finished for him, and McCree nodded, eyes drawn back to Hanzo, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” The teasing tone was weak, a far cry from Genji’s usual mischief, but it was enough to startle a chuckle out of McCree as he studied Hanzo.

“I guess I do.” He had loved plenty over the years, even during his time on the run he’d been able to charm his way into company, but as much as he had cared for some of them, it paled in comparison to what he felt for Hanzo. “I guess I do…” He repeated with a note of wonder in his voice.

    A lifetime and it had been a snarky archer, with a stain on his soul that rivalled McCree’s. A man that he had been so determined to hate, that had brought him to this point, and he knew that his grip on Hanzo’s hand had to be bruising by this point, but there was no sign of it in the pale features, and he broke a little further. Looking down, and letting his fingers fall away from Hanzo’s, as his shoulders shook beneath the force of the sob that he had been trying to hold back for too long.

“Jesse…” Genji began and then fell silent, realising with a pang that this was much needed. Angela had warned him that Jesse was teetering on the edge, still exhausted from the mission, and from the days of waiting for Hanzo to come back to him. He glanced at his brother, wondering if Hanzo even suspected that he could have this kind of effect on McCree. Probably not, he thought with a sigh, remembering what Jesse had said about Hanzo trying to get him to leave him behind, and he shook his head, watching Jesse out of the corner of his eye.

_Brother, I hope that one day you can let yourself realise just how much he cares. For both your sakes…_

****

     More days passed, but there was a slow, gradual improvement in Hanzo’s condition that was visible to everyone, even as Angela maintained a cautious tone whenever they pressed for more information. However, there was more colour in his face, and not from the fever, which had finally given ground beneath Angela’s aggressive treatments, and the infirmary was finally back to an average temperature much to everyone’s relief. Yet, the McCree was still cold to the core, and Hanzo was still unconscious, although there had been several occasions when he had seemed to drift a little closer to the surface, the furrow between his eyes deepening, and fingers twitching against Jesse’s, but so far, he hadn’t been able to push free.       

    It was during one of the times when both Genji and McCree were sat with him, the latter dozing awkwardly in his chair, in a position that had Genji wincing in sympathy. The gunslinger was still avoiding his own quarters like the plague, and Genji was starting to think that he was going to end up with a permanent crick in his neck after all this. Shaking his head, deciding he’d rather McCree had a sore neck than not catch up on some much-needed sleep, he turned his attention to his brother, only to pause as he realised that the furrow that had been present for days now had deepened into a scowl.

“Hanzo?” He leant forward, more hopeful than he cared to admit, even as small part of him was amused that his brother was going to wake up with a scowl on his face, watching as Hanzo’s eyes flickered at the noise. “Hanzo? Brother, can you hear me?” Genji called softly, growling in frustration when his brother in his typical contrary fashion, seemed to still again, although the scowl remained giving him hope that Hanzo hadn’t gone under completely.  “Jesse!” He was louder this time, not that it took much to rouse McCree who bolted upright in his seat, panic written across his face, eyes darting around for a threat before meeting Genji’s gaze and then following as Genji tilted his head towards his brother.

“Hanzo…” McCree breathed, almost knocking the chair over as he surged to his feet, heart racing in his chest as Hanzo’s eyes fluttered again. _Please._ He forgot all about Genji, taking hold of Hanzo’s hand which he had dropped in his sleep and holding it tenderly between his and he leaned in close, watching closely. “Hanzo, come on now, you’ve been sleeping long enough,” he scolded, fond but honest at the same time, and he was rewarded by the feel of strong fingers curling around his, almost jumping out of his skin at the sensation, because there had been purpose behind the movement this time. “Sweetheart?”

     Hanzo’s nose wrinkled, and Jesse couldn’t hold back a surprised, delighted chuckle at the sight, because it was so typically Hanzo. He had never been fond of pet names, although he had learned to appreciate them when they were alone, but there were moments when McCree would catch him from surprise, and he would wrinkle his nose just like that. “That’s it, now open those eyes for me,” he urged, deciding now was not the time to tease his partner, as Hanzo would likely decide not to wake up just to spite him. Instead, the words seemed to reach Hanzo for the first time in days, as he shifted on the bed, head tilting towards the sound of McCree’s voice, the scowl easing a little as his eyes fluttered a little more strongly than before. Genji was silent now, watching them, but McCree could see that he was just as hopeful, practically quivering on the edge of his seat.

“J…” It was broken, little more than a stilted, stuttering syllable, but it was the most beautiful thing that McCree had heard since Hanzo had first admitted how he felt about him. But, not as beautiful as the sliver of brown eyes that appeared in the next second, hazy, but not in the same way that they had been when they’d been surrounded by snow, Hanzo ill and struggling to hold on. This was the haziness that came from exhaustion, and waking from a deep sleep, and as he watched Hanzo blinked, looking a little more focused, looking at him for a long moment, before his gaze flickered across to Genji, senses sharp even in this situation, and then back to him. “J…”

“I’m here,” McCree murmured, leaning forward, leaving Genji to slip away to fetch Angela. “You gave me quite the scare,” he added, before realising that it was much too soon for that conversation as Hanzo blinked, slow and heavy, looking half a breath from falling asleep again. “I missed you,” he wanted Hanzo to at least know that much, lifting his partner’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to it, overjoyed to see Hanzo’s lips quirk at up at the gesture. He can see that Hanzo is beginning to drift, eyes slipping shut and struggling open again, and as much as the thought of him sleeping again terrifies him, McCree doesn’t have the heart to protest, seeing the exhaustion written into the lines of his partner’s face. In fact, he’s opening his mouth to say that it’s okay when the curtains open and Angela hurries in with Genji on her heels.

      He’s not given a chance to say anything before both he and Genji are chased out, with the promise that it won’t be for long, although he almost fights her on it as Hanzo’s fingers tighten on his for a moment. However, whether Hanzo just lacks the strength to stop him, or he’s realised that Angela isn’t going to be dissuaded from checking him over, the archer lets him go, with nothing more than a pleading look.

    It’s only as he paces back and forth down the main aisle of the room, Genji watching on in amusement from the bed that he’s claimed as a seat, that McCree realises that the chill that has gripped him since the mission is beginning to ease. It’s still there, lingering, especially in the hand that Hanzo had squeezed only moments ago, but it's fading, and he took a deep breath, feeling as though he could breathe easily for the first time since Lena had woken him in the snow.

“He came back…”

****

“I am not an invalid,” Hanzo grumbled, as McCree staggered for a moment, struggling to keep Hanzo in his arms and open the door to their quarters. Although for his complaining on the walk down from the infirmary, he didn’t fight to escape, in fact letting his head come to rest against McCree’s shoulder as the gunslinger crowed his success as the door swung open with a creak.

“Angela said light duties only for another week,” McCree pointed out as he stepped inside, careful not to catch his partner’s head on the doorframe.

“I don’t think walking down here would count as ‘heavy’ duty,” Hanzo pointed out, but there was a small smile playing across his lips now, and he wrapped his arms around McCree’s neck as his partner tried to lower him onto the bed. Earning a grin from McCree, and a quick kiss before he was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed.

“Fine, but she did tell me to take care of you,” McCree pointed out, mischief colouring his words as he straightened and looked down at Hanzo. “So, we’re going to do it my way.” He hadn’t meant to add weight to the words, but they had come out sterner and far heavier than he had intended, and he sighed, as Hanzo’s smile faded, expression turning strained. It was a conversation that they had been skirting around ever since Hanzo had woken three days ago, avoided in part because for the first two days Hanzo was only awake for short bursts at a time and struggling to focus, which kind of took the wind out of any serious conversations. And even now he was liable to doze off without warning, although there was a sharpness in his eyes now, as he pushed himself upright on the bed.

“Jesse…”

“Don’t ‘Jesse’ me,” McCree cut across him, realising that they were going to have this conversation whether either of them was ready for it not. He knew this was probably not what Angela had in mind when she’d reluctantly released Hanzo into his care after the archer had made several attempts to escape her care on too shaky legs, and with a sigh, he stepped forward and sank down on the edge of the bed. “You scared the hell out of me, Hanzo.”  That was the understatement of the year, and for a moment there was an awkward silence before Hanzo sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hanzo, you…”

“I had not realised how ill I was.” Hanzo grimaced. He’d known that he was under the weather, but a lifetime of having to push through that kind of feeling had left him not realising just how bad it was. He had no doubts about that now though because as soon as he had been awake enough to follow a conversation, Angela had torn strips off of him for going into the field like that and left him in no doubts about how McCree had been for the week he’d spent unconscious. “But…”

“You wouldn’t have said, even you’d known?” McCree finished for him, voice and eyes sharp, earning a wince from the archer before he nodded slowly. It was enough to make him want to take his partner by the shoulders and shake him because he knew that there was no lie here. “Hanzo…”

“It was a bad mission from the start, I didn’t want you going in alone.”

“So, you decided nearly getting yourself killed was the answer?!” McCree was shouting now, glad that he had thought to kick the door shut behind them. The cold that had gripped him had faded entirely now, but the memory of it hadn’t, and for a moment all he could see was snow, and Hanzo still and pale at his side. “You nearly died Hanzo, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” That was the worst of it, he realised. It wasn’t that Hanzo had lied to him about being ill, or that he would have done so even if he’d known how bad it was beforehand. It was that in the one situation when he had wanted, no needed, to be able to do something, and he had been utterly helpless. Hanzo had been dying, and all he’d been able to do was hold him close and pray. “I could’ve lost you, and…”

“You did everything,” Hanzo murmured, and McCree jolted as warm hands took his human hand and held it close, looking up into wonderfully aware, dark eyes. “You were there. I remember that.” His memories of the mission were blurry at best, and everything, after they’d fled, was a confusing mix of snow and fever dream, but he did remember McCree being there. His warmth. His reassurances. The red of the serape that he’d wrapped around Hanzo, a grounding image amongst the flickering, confusing memories of snow. “You could have left me behind, but you stayed…” He hesitated for a moment as McCree growled, wincing as he realised that he must’ve requested something along those lines as his partner’s expression darkened, and he knew that was going to be another raw, painful conversation. Hopefully for later, because for all his complaining about not needing to be carried, he was already ready to curl up and go back to sleep, even after spending the morning dozing.

“Hanzo…” McCree didn’t miss the slight sway that Hanzo tried to mask or the exhaustion in behind the words, and he sighed. It helped to at least know that Hanzo had known he was there, for all that it hadn’t done either of them any good, and he hadn’t missed the hesitation and dawning realisation after those last words, and he wondered just how much his partner actually remembered. It made it hard to tear strips out of him, and if he was honest, he didn’t really want to do that when his partner was still recovering. “We still need to talk about this,” he warned, even as he leaned in, resting their foreheads together. “But you need to rest.” The lack of protest that greeted those words told him everything that he needed to know, and he huffed, the anger that had bubbled up fading. “Just, promise me that you’ll tell me when you feel ill in the future, even if its nothing more than a sniffle.”

     He knows that he’s asking a lot, as Hanzo still struggled at times with the concept that he was accepted let alone wanted here, but he needs the reassurance. _Too close,_ the thought still haunted him even with the cold gone, and maybe his partner realised because, after a brief hesitation, Hanzo nodded against him. He would demand more, but Hanzo is slumping against him, sliding away until his face came to rest pressed into McCree’s shoulder, and with a sigh, he wrapped his arms around him. “We’re talking about this later.” A muffled grumble that could’ve been ‘I know’ or something a bit less pleasant was his only answer, and he shook his head, before pressing a kiss to dark hair and taking a deep breath.

Hanzo was fine, and the rooms that had felt so large and empty for the past week, now felt like home again as he carefully eased them both down onto the bed, Hanzo already half-asleep against him.

 


End file.
